The Younger Prince
by ThyShippingQueen
Summary: America is selected into Prince Aspen's Selection. But things happen when she meets his younger brother, Prince Maxon... *wink wink* May be a little OOC. Or a lot OOC.
1. Future Football Players

It was a hot summer day in Carolina, with the sun beating down onto the roads, frying some innocent flies in the process. People were relaxing on the beach and getting wonderfully tanned. Kids, now out of school were screaming and yelling out in happiness on playgrounds while their parents were talking animatedly to each other. Happiness was just floating around in the air, and it was just all-

"Mom! Dad! I don't want to go to this damn selection!" I yelled out for what seemed like the millionth time. "I'm perfectly fine with my life right now!"

Here I was, sitting in our little dining room, discussing this topic of going to the oh so glorious Prince Aspen's selection. There was no way in hell I would even consider going. But my mom had a different idea.

"America! Language!" I rolled my eyes at that. They would be using the same language if they were in my position. What kind of parent would force their children to enter a raffle that could force them to marry a person that they don't even know, and could change their course of their life forever? Oh wait... My parents would.

"I'm speaking Eeennnngleeeesssss, mom." I fired back at her. "I just don't want to go to this stupid, arrogant, stuck up, little prick's selection!" I hope that was enough descriptive words to convince my mom that I don't want to go.

"Show respect to your future king! And I will make you sign up!" Shoot... That wasn't enough descriptive words. I knew I should have added 'bitchy tyrant' to that list.

"And America, just... Please at least sign up for it! You are 19, meaning that you are at a perfect age for signing up! Other girls would kill to be your age! Just sign up!" No. No. No. No. Never in a million years. Nope. Nada. Zilch. I internally swore in my mind just for good measure and prayed that she would consider not signing me up.

"Why should I? I don't want to possibly date a guy that I don't know!" I pleaded with all my might. I even gave her my puppy dog eyes. But she didn't fall for it. Instead, she called for reinforcements.

"Shalom? Come here please!" Don't. Bring. Him. In. Here.

And then in walks my dad. Damn it. Now my odds of winning this battle are not in my favor. My dad always had a way to convince me to do things.

"America doesn't want to go to Prince Aspen's selection." My mom tattletaled. My dad stood there, thinking about which side he should take.

"Well, while I do not think that you should force our daughter to go to the selection," Yes! He's on my side.I did a little victory dance in my head. Wait... I replayed that sentence in my head. While I do not think... WHILE? He continued on, and my heart sank. "But America, dear," he turned toward me. Uh oh. "I think this would be a great experience for you and to exploit your singing talents to the whole world instead of just little children's birthday parties. Also, you can really help us financially by doing this."

"But dad-"

"America." Mom said in a condescending tone. I sighed.

"Fine." I grumbled, "I'll grab the forms from the town hall today."

I probably had a slim chance of getting into that jackass's selection anyway. I'm not that pretty with my dull dray eyes and ghost white skin, and I'm pretty sure the process of getting into the selection that they look at a picture of you and then decide whether they get in based on your looks.

"America! When are you getting the forms?" My mom's way too perky voice echoed in my ear. I clenched my fists and tried not to give anyone a black eye when I heard her voice reeking of victory and boastfulness.

"Later."

"America..." She said condescendingly again.

"Fine." I grumbled. And then I exited the room, slamming the door as hard as I can, just to piss her off.

Off on the other side of the door in the house, I heard her yell, "America! That is mahogany!"

I smirked at that.

I walked out onto the streets of Carolina where I saw children playing around in the hot burning sun, people sun bathing in the hot burning sun, people swimming in pools in the hot burning sun, people getting sun burned from not putting any sunscreen on in the hot burning sun, and insects burning to death and then bring poked at and inspected by two year olds in the hot burning sun. Many buildings were towering over the small humble area that I lived in. All was well.

After walking for a while, I finally gradually cooled down from the argument I had with my mom as I walked in silence and looked at my surroundings again. Nature has always had its way of cooling me down.

And then I reached the town hall and my jaw dropped.

Girls were swarming around, tackling each other to get to the forms. Twos, Threes, and Fours were all pushing to the front of the clump, leaving the small group of Fives, Sixes, Sevens and Eights to the back. Here I go.

I walked towards the clump of people and waited. I scanned my surroundings. Tables were all lined up around the room with piles and piles of papers on them, undoubtedly the forms that the other girls have signed. Wow. My chances of getting in aren't that high! Yes! I don't even know why they wanted me to sign up for this competition- the odds of actually getting in are approximately 35/84700000000^98. Awesome.

But on the other hand...

My parents were struggling to support us, and if I got in, that would be extremely beneficial to our family. They could live a life where money was no obstacle, where they were never hungry. And I want that for my brothers and sisters. I will try to support them, unlike how Kota did.

Kota. That name sent a shiver down my back. He was now a well known sculptor, and has been a year since we have even gotten contact with him. That selfish little prick who only wanted himself to thrive. He stole all the money and fame he had gotten from the sculpture our family worked on for months. All he wanted was fame and fortune, meaning all he wanted was to be a Two. He doesn't deserve to be called a Singer. That stupid little arse.

Fine. I will do my best to support my family, even if it means entering this stupid competition for a prince's love.

I finally got to the front part of the line after realizing just waiting for the line to disperse will not work, and joining the realm of tackling and tripping people will work. Heh. That was actually pretty fun, ignoring the fact that I got my hair pulled a couple of times by the raving girls that might as well be future football players.

I grabbed the paper that felt cool under my touch and started filling it out, knowing that I had a very slimmmm, and when I meant slim I meant 1 inch of chance that I would actually get in, me being a five and below average looking. So I filled out the form honestly.

The registration form asked simple things like age (you had to be in between the ages 19-23 to sign up for this), height, extracurricular activities you do, caste (duh), languages you speak, whether you were single or ready to mingle, and all that other what not that I found utterly useless. At the end it said:

_Thank you for registering for Prince Aspen's Selection!_

_Tomorrow at 1:00 is picture day, so make sure you get ready! This will also be sent for judging!_

Wow... Judging people on appearance. Just. Wow.

_Results will be aired on the weekly Friday Illea Capitol Report! So make sure you tune in!_

Oh well. I will have to go back and visit realm of sweaty, tackling, hair-pulling girls (basically hell) again tomorrow for picture day. Joy. My life is so awesome.

**Well, that is chapter one! This is just a little idea I had in my head for a while and I finally decided to actually execute it!**

**Do you think this story is worth continuing?**

**~ShippingQueen**


	2. Back to Hel-Whoa

**Chapter 2: Back to Hel- Whoa.**

"OHHHH MYYYY GOODNESS AMES!" There goes my morning alarm clock. Wait a minute... That isn't my morning alarm clock. I sit up groggily and open my eyes to my way-too-energetic-don't-give-her-coffee-or-sugar-at-all-costs little sister, May. I don't even know how she has the strength to wake up that early. She's jumping up and down right next to my bed, her eyes alight with joy and... Excitement. No... My mom promised she wouldn't-

"YOU ARE SIGNING UP FOR THE PRINCE'S SELECTION!" Okay, my mom told her. Now here goes her rant... "OH MY GOSH YOU ARE SO LUCKY! WHY DIDNT YOU TELL ME YESTERDAY?" She yelled. "I HAVE TO HELP YOU GET READY FOR TODAY'S PICTURE DAY!"

Oh no.

Not again.

_"Okay children! What do you guys want to next?"_

_"Can we dress you up?" One of May's friends spoke up from the crowd. No. Bad idea._

_Very bad idea._

_"Ya! You should let us do that!" I think June, the girl with two pig tails shouted._

_This seemed to trigger the crowd. I then would have a gaggle of marching babies attempting to convince me to be their Barbie. Oh joy._

_I feel a tugging on my shirt. I see May making her puppy dog face. "Can you please let us? It's just going to be one time! It's gonna be fun! F-U-N!"_

_Oh well. It can't be that bad. Just for you, May!_

_..._

_I looked at myself in the mirror._

_I nearly fainted._

_It was that bad._

"Um, May? I will give you the right to choose my outfit, but after that I will get ready by myself, okay?" Her eyes lit up with glee. _Was that the right decision?_ Oh well... I only have two things that were actually formal anyway. I just hope May won't pick an outfit that is too outlandish. Or revealing. Or fluffy. Or furry.

Oh dear, there are so many things that could go wrong. May noticed my now concerned facial expression.

"Oh come on, Ames! I'm really good at fashion!" She said while striking a pose that looked a little too scandalous for her age.

"Ok May, just not anything too revealing, or..." And I continued on with my precautions and I saw May's face get grumpier and grumpier with each word I spoke.

"So basically you want a wooden barrel as an outfit?" She muttered. _Essentially, yes._ But I pushed that witty remark away when I saw her disappointed and sad face. Ugh. How can cute faces make me so lenient? I have to work on that... Probably by staring at a cute bunny's face all day. Penguins would work too.

"Fine, just choose anything that mom will agree on." Her face lit up. Oh yeah, mom and May have similar taste, so that won't end well for me. "And dad." I added hastily.

But that was good enough for her. She bounded out, yelling out a quick farewell before she left me alone in my room.

I turned to face the window of my room, thinking about my decision to sign up for the selection. If I got in, will I regret it? A life of fame, cameras, drama... No. I wouldn't be able to stay sane with all that. Every selected girl that stepped foot in the palace immediately famous and well known around the nation (even if you are the first ones eliminated). Even just by going onto the airplane to the palace made you famous. Heck, even the dog named Pudgy got famous by accidentally stepping foot on the plane.

The thought of potentially being one of the selected and being famous and well known made me nervous. I always wanted a life that was independent and secretive, and by signing up for the selection wasn't going to make that wish come true. But my family...

I could always find other ways of supporting them though without risking the path of my future. Anyway, the chances of me getting in aren't that high. Oh well.

I dressed up in a simple t-shirt and shorts while I continued thinking about my future. I was already 19 years of age, and I needed to start supporting myself instead of relying on my parents that much for food, shelter, and other things if I wanted a life that was independent. I also have to find a better job (right now I'm singing at children's birthday parties). Maybe I can take the artist route... My parents always said that my paintings were brilliant.

But those were my parents. Their opinions were biased.

Should I actually try to get into the selection?

My jaw dropped.

"So... I, um I mean mommy and daddy think you should wear this jacket," _Nope_. "with this top," _No way._" with this skirt, " _OH HELL N-_ "with this legging," _please no_. "with this headband." My younger red head duplicate shoved up an assortment of clothing in my face. And I got to say... It looked awes- like a rainbow barfed all over my clothing. Did mom and dad actually agree with this? It also looked like she grabbed this out of her own wardrobe... Because it looked 5 sizes too small.

"Hey May, did mommy and daddy agree to this?" As soon as I said this, her business-like face morphed into a innocent angelic expression and she tried to cover a smile. She nodded her head vigorously.

"Yes, I did," she lied.

"May..." I said doubtfully while attempting to raise an eyebrow. But like every time I tried, both eyebrows went up.

"America..." May said in the same tone. I kept staring at her, and then she finally broke down.

"Fine," she grumbled. "I'll show you the outfit that mommy, daddy, and I picked out for you. Honestly, I don't think that it is as good as this outfit. The one they chose was mediocre." Yes! May's mediocre=America happy. "It's too plain and it only has one color." Booyah. This outfit was sounding great already. I was tempted to yell out a 'thanks dad and mom!' But I refrained from doing that so I wouldn't offend little America Jr.

I followed May down the hallway, with the wooden floors creaking with every step we took. When we reached the living room, May turned around.

"Are you sure you don't want to use my outfit idea? It's not too late-"

"May."

"Fine." She grumbled once again.

I walked into our small and humble living room. It had wooden flooring, much like the rest of the house, and rustic wooden walls. In the center of the room were wooden chairs surrounding a brown, mahogany table that was on a hand woven rug. Unlit lanterns and candles surrounded the room, giving off a warm feeling. My mom was sitting on a chair, drinking her coffee, and my dad was eating a bagel that looked like he just got from our local market.

"Good morning father, good morning mother." I greeted.

"Good morning America. You excited for today?" My mom replied.

"Sure."

"I'm glad you are, honey." She gave a smile, and then drank from her mug.

I mustered up and returned a dimple showing smile.

"America, your dress that May and mom helped choose is on the counter there." My dad said.

"Ok dad. Thanks."

I walked over to the kitchen counter to see a stunning blue dress. (I'm going to let your imagination run free for this... I'm really bad at doing these types of things.)

In other words, the dress looked stunning.

"Oh my gosh." I was baffled at the sight of the dress. It was so beautiful, it looked so... Expensive?

"Wait, mom? How much-" a wave of guiltiness washed over me and settled in my stomach. No. They shouldn't spend that much money just for this picture day. They need to the money to support their family. They need to re-

"It was my old prom dress when I was your age, it was passed down from my mother. And I thought that it would be fitting for you for this event." I took deep breaths to calm my racing heartbeat. Good. They didn't spend money on that. The hollowness in my stomach dissipated.

"So," I said sheepishly, "um... Can I try it on?"

My mom's face was unreadable. First it looked like she was nostalgic, then sad, then she modeled a "are-you-freaking-serious" look. She earned an A+ for acing that look that made me feel extremely dumb for even asking that question.

"Of course you can, honey! You have to get ready quick for the picture day." Oh shoot, what time is it? I looked at the clock and it read: 9:00. Oh phew, the picture thing started at 11. So we weren't late. I nodded, agreeing with my mom that I had to get ready. "Do you want me to help you with your makeup?" Uh. Heh. I'd rather not visit another flashback.

"Oh, mom! It's fine. You have already done so many things for me." Translation: There is no way in hell in which you are going to do my makeup.

It's better not to offend anyone with power over you. The power of potentially doing your makeup _somewhat_ badly.

"America, I'm trusting you with this job okay?" Mom said as if she were giving a million dollar ring to me. I nodded my head anyway. I picked up the dress and I brought it into my bedroom with me.

I looked in the mirror and sighed. Where do I start with this?

...

Ha. Done. I did it without burning the house down. I looked at my reflection in the mirror and I was happy with the person staring back at me. She had mascara covering her eyelashes and a pink lip gloss glazing her lips. She didn't look like her face was caked on or printed on. And I was glad for that. All I wanted was something simple and sweat-proof. (I basically burned 400 calories and sweat 5 liters of water yesterday just by joining the league of tackling).

Now that I was done with my makeup, I put on my dress and looked in the mirror.

Oh.

My.

Gosh.

I.

Looked.

Good.

**(OM-GILG: add that to your texting lingo! You are welcome)**

"America! Are you done yet? We have to go!" I heard my dad's melodic voice echo through the house.

"Yup! I just finished!" I said while I raced down the hallway to meet my grinning father. His eyes held a nostalgic expression as he looked at me

"My baby child, all grown up." Oh no he's going to make me cry. "You look beautiful, Mer." Mer. The childhood nickname that he gave me when I was younger. I started tearing up, and I hugged him tightly.

"Daddy, thank you so much."

"I'm always here for you, kitten." I blinked furiously to prevent me from smudging my makeup.

"Aww. Family bonding." My mom's sarcastic voice cut through the moment my dad and I had. "But it is time for you to go! I'm so excited!"

I scoffed. Excited for what?

I arrived at the town hall and I refrained my jaw to not drop open again. But it still dropped open.

What the hell happened to this place?

The place where I once thought was hell turned into heaven.

All of the contestants were standing in line, with their backs perfectly straight and their chins tilted up. What in the world happened. But then I saw a flash from my peripheral view.

I snapped my jaw shut and turned toward the flash. There I saw cameras and camcorders everywhere. No no no no no. I don't want to be seen on camera. I ducked away and blended in with the pile of statuesque girls, trying not to drag any attention to me.

Phew. That was close. I absolutely didn't want to appear on camera. But It seemed like my mom was in the exact opposite situation than me. She was 'accidentally' in the camera's line of vision and she was 'accidentally' posing. I sighed. Oh well. Her choice and fault, not mine.

After a while, I finally got to the front of the line, and I didn't have to rip anyone's fake eyelashes off to get there! I had done a lot of thinking about whether if I wanted to actually try to get into the selection while waiting for the line to slowly dissolve. And I finally made my decision.

"Number 517!" Oop. That was me. I walked into the room and up to the white background and waited for the photographer's directions.

"Okay, so you have three shots to send along with your form to the Palace for judging. So choose you poses wisely, ah... Ms. Singer." The brown-haired photographer said in a bored tone. I would be bored too, if that was the five-hundredth time I had to repeat that sentence. Well, anyway, I'm ready to pose!

I modeled a bored face. _Flash!_

I stuck my tongue out to the camera and made a doofus face. _Flash!_

I squinted my eyes and I stuck out two peace signs. _Flash!_

You guessed it. I didn't want to go to the selection. I will find another way to support my family without being so... Public. So right now I am trying my best to not get into the selection. I'm trying my best to look unattractive.

When I was done modeling, the photographer looked astonished. Really astonished. I covered a laugh at his facial expression.

"Um, Ms. Singer, I can give you the opportunity to take one last picture and you can still send the last three _interesting_ photos too." He said, in a condescending tone.

I grumbled in protest but I managed to make a shy smile. _Flash!_

Ooh. That blinded my eyes.

**Well, here's chapter two! I see that you wanted me to continue it!**

**I hope you like it!**

**Will she make it into the Selection? DUNDUNDUNNNNNNNNN *cue suspenseful music***

**The answer is totally not in the summary. I should have added "SPOILER ALERT" to my summary. Whoopsie daisy.**

**And for my Illea High School readers, expect a chapter in the next year! Okay well... soon!**

**Just for future chapters, should I make Celeste post-Celeste or not? (Good or bad)**

**~ThyShippingQueen**

**I added a "Thy", well just because it makes me sound more... Awesome. Heh. THE LENGTHS THAT WE WOULD GO TO JUST TO BE AWESOME. Or may I say, ****_thy_**** lengths... Heh heh. Funny? **

**No.**

**Sorry for that.**

**I love you all for bearing with my awkwardness!**

**~THYShippingQueen **

**The one and only.**


	3. I'll Do That For You

**Chapter 3: I****'****ll Do That For You**

It was Friday. The day of the results. I am pretty confident that I didn't get in. It was probably the odds that the castes will get dissolved. Like that was going to happen. This corrupted world will stay corrupted, as sad as that may sound. The eights did nothing to get to where they were- on the streets and starving. They can't earn enough to support a family, so most were sent out to the streets to beg. They do life-threatening jobs and hard-labor just to put food on their table. And then the twos however, they just had to stand in front of a camera and smile to get money for shopping sprees and that stuff. Oh, how I hate how this country works.

The female population of the Singer household was absolutely hectic. They were jumping up and down as if they have seen their favourite celebrity. I preferred the male population of the Singer household much much more. They were quiet and calm.

I was tempted to tell the female Singers on how I rigged the application to be not in my favor, but I chose not to. That would earn me a huge 2 hour- _day_ rant from them about how great the prince is and how I missed a huge opportunity. But I am excited about telling them about the new job I had that could greatly benefit the family, and that could potentially give all of us an education and a chance for a brighter future. I feel immensely proud about that.

All of us were cuddled up on the couch, waiting for the Friday Capital Report to start up on the small computer screen.

Suddenly a face that looked way too excited and had way too many face lefts flashed onto the screen.

I almost peed my pants.

"Heeeelllllooooo, Illea!" The announcer said happily. "My name is Gavril," Oh. So he is the ever so famous Gavril. I never knew he looked so... Ken dollish, which isn't a compliment. "And welcome to the weekly Friday Illea report!"

"As you all know, today is the big day for our dear Prince Aspen." The screen flashed to _his majesty's _arrogant face. His nose was in the air, like a total snob. "He is turning 20, and we are very proud to welcome up the blah blah blah he is too awesome blah blah blah blah I love his hair blah blah I love cookies blah blah blah Cookie Monster is a threat blah blah blah blah blah." And then I started to drift off.

_There was a pumpkin king who wanted cookies for his banana lieutenants because- _

"Oh my gosh oh my gosh oh my gosh! Its starting Ames!" May exclaimed with joy while shaking me really hard, "Aren't you so darn excited?!"

Excited my ass.

The camera flashed back to Gavril's _modified _face again and he started talking, "Remember that all of these girls are very very lucky and have been hand chosen by the one and only Prince Aspen."

Lucky them.

"So let's get started with the selected twos, Shall we?" The audience replied with a smattering applause and screams of delight.

"Celeste Newsome, a two, from Clermont." Pictures of her photo shoot were littered on the screen. Wow. She looks bitchy. And beautiful. Her photos showed her giving her white, bright smile.

He called out way too many more names from the caste of two and he droned on and on and on.

I'm gonna sleep.

My mom shook me awake. "America! They are moving on to the fives! Hurry up! Look!"

I groggily stretched my arms and rubbed my eyes.

"America Singer, a five from Carolina."

Ha. Very funny, mom.

I laughed a couple of times, expecting to get a reply from my mom, but she just stared at the screen.

.

.

.

I looked on the screen and saw the one picture of me smiling shyly at the camera.

I looked at my dad for reassurance, but he looked as shocked as I am.

Was he in this joke too?

My dad slowly looked at me and I saw the pure surprise glazing his eyes over.

I realized that this wasn't a joke.

There was just silence.

"Fuck." I whispered. No. This can't be happening.

I don't want this life. I don't want it.

Please let this be a dream.

Please let this be a nightmare.

_This must be a nightmare._

_This has to be a nightmare._

_Wake up, America!_

_There is no way I could've gotten in._

I pinched myself.

Wake up wake up wake up wake up wake up

Nothing happened.

This was reality.

How?

...Why?

Please no...

A tear escaped from my eyes. And that broke the dam.

Tears started streaming down my face. I didn't want to get in! This has to be a mistake. I tried my hardest not to get in... And I got in. This has to be a joke.

There was no turning back now. Every one of the selected life's changed the moment their name is called. Now cameras will follow you wherever you went. My stomach filled with dread and I suddenly had to fight the urge to throw up. I closed my eyes.

Screams and yells of excitement and disbelief echoed throughout the room and I saw a faded image of May running toward me.

Everything felt blurred.

It felt light headed.

Please let this be a dream.

Everything went black.

...

Bright lights blind my eyes, even with my eyelids shut closed. The too clean scent of a sterilized room fills my nose and I sneeze.

_Bleh._

I grimace and my ears perk up when I hear a voice vaguely like my dad's.

"America? Kitten?" The person who's voice sounds like my dad's gasped.

I snap my eyes open. I search around the room and see my dad a few feet away, looking at me, surprised and relieved, holding a glass of water. He started shuffling toward me while I looked around.

Everything around me was white. White walls, white ceilings, white bed... And I was in a whi- never mind, blue gown. I was on a bed that was far more comfortable than my house's. This one felt much softer, plush, bouncy. I wanted to melt in it because of how comfortable it was. I stared at my wrist and saw a needle attached to it. The beep of a heart monitor echoed throughout the room and to the right of me I had a table lined with needles_, _syringes, and vials. I reached up to touch my face, but I was met with the touch of a plastic mask.

In other words, I was in a hospital.

"Daddy? Why am I in a hospital?" I asked in confusion. But when I realized that he couldn't hear me because of my respiration mask, I ripped it off and repeated my question.

"Daddy?" His face was grim and concerned. He walked forward toward my bed and kneeled down. He put the hand that was not carrying the glass of water on my thigh, containing a reassuring touch. Why?

He handed a glass of water to me and I didn't notice the really dry throat I had until now. I gulped down the glass of water, while trying to read my dad's face. It was unreadable. Would someone just tell me what in the freaking hell is going on? Why in the fuck am I in a hospital?

"America, I know you're confused," I said that out loud, didn't I. "Just one question at a time, okay?" I nodded my head.

"So, Kitten, do you know what happened before you got here?"

I thought back as far as I could remember.

"So we were watching the selection and then... Did someone die?"

I watched as a sad smile curled up my dad's face. He put a warm hand on my forehead and sighed.

"Oh, kitten," my dad said sadly. "No one died, fortunately, but..."

"What."

"You fainted."

_Fainted?_

I thought back to when everything went black. The sound of screaming and yelling engulfed and deafened my ears.

_"Call Illea Hospital!"_

_"America! Are you okay?"_

_"America! Wake up!" A sharp pain stung my cheek._

_The sound of sirens wailing in my ear welcomed me as I struggled to stay conscious. I felt people pick me up and lie me on a plank. The sound of clicking... CLICKING? Cameras!_

Cameras.

"Did the-" I started, but my dad interrupted me, almost knowing exactly was I was going to ask and how I was going to react.

"I tried to fend off the cameras," _tried._ "And I think that I did the job pretty well. So don't worry, America. I always knew that you liked flying under the radar."

I hoped my eyes expressed the thanks I wanted to say because I was about on the verge of tears. My dad is so helpful in so many ways. He always knows what i want and what I need.

I quickly wiped my tears away and sat there, staring at the wall.

I was still confused about something though...

"What caused me to faint?" I questioned. My dad's face immediately melted into a passive expression.

"How about we leave this topic for another time, okay?"

"No."

"Are you sure?" My dad's pleading voice threatened to break to break my stubbornness. Walls of Steel, America!

"Yes. I am sure."

"America..."

"Tell me."

"Okay." My dad sighed. "Just, try not to faint again, okay?" I directed a 'no duh' face at my dad.

"So we were watching the Illea Report-" And memories started rushing back to my brain.

I got in.

"I got in, didn't I? Into the selection?" I said to my dad, interrupting his story telling. He nodded his head slowly in a calming manner. Dad smiled grimly and put his hand over mine.

"I will support every decision you make, okay?" I looked down and also nodded.

"More water," I croaked, starting to feel nauseous again. My dad quickly grabbed the cup out of my hand and rushed out the door to get more water for me.

But immediately when my dad walked out, my mom traded places and walked in.

I clenched my fists at the sight of my mom.

She's the one who caused me to get into the selection.

My nauseousness fully converted into dead on rage.

I bit my tongue to prevent me from immediately start swearing and throwing cuss words everywhere.

"Hello, mum," I said in a hostile tone. She caught on that I wasn't happy with her.

"Hello, America. Glad to see you awake." I sneered at her haughty expression.

"Get out." I growled. I didn't want to see any bit of her. That bitch turned my life upside down. Now nothing is going to be the same.

Just because of her.

She made my dad come in and convince me to go on that fateful day.

"Get out!" I repeated, after several seconds of a staring contest. My eyes filled with fury versus her eyes filled with arrogance and pleasure.

But instead of walking out and following my orders, she just shrugged her shoulders and said in a very condescending tone, "The plane leaves tomorrow. Today, they are releasing you and I fully expect for you to go home and to immediately pack your bags. And don't even _think_ about talking to your dad or running away."

I opened my mouth to retort, but she flipped her hair and pridefully walked out of the room. I swore at her to just remind her about how she is leaving our relationship to be. She didn't turn back and the clicking sound of her heels slowly subsided.

I released a growl and glared at the door, challenging it to bring someone else in. Mom acts so immaturely. How could such a sweet guy like my dad marry someone like her? I took a deep breath and thought of ways to avoid the inevitable.

...

I wake up to sound of screaming and yelling. It seemed vaguely similar to a person celebrating.

Wait did I fall asleep? Eh, who cares. Gah, this bed is too comfortable. Sleep. My brain was too muddled to process anything.

_"America! Waddle! We have to go huff and puff to blow!_" A person said, mentally pulling me out of my deep sleep.

"AMERICA! Wake up! We have to go home to pack up your bags!" The person repeated in my awakening mind.

_No... Just a few more minutes._

"Ammeeyyyy!" The voice squealed and poked my cheek.

_Shut up. Shut up. Slleeeeeeepp._

"AMERICA!" The voice screamed. That immediately shocked me out of my sleep and I glared at my sister for waking me up from my escape from life.

"What?!" I growled.

Her face instantly dimmed down and I regretted the tone I said that to her with.

"I'm sorry May," I apologized and tried to laugh it off, "you know how much I love my beauty sleep."

She smiled and walked over to me.

"It's okay! I'm also sorry for waking you up from your beauty sleep. " I smiled at how sweet she is. "I'm just so excited that my big sister got into the selection! We have to pack up!" And my smile vanished and my heart started beating wildly.

The constant beeping from the heart monitor sped up and May started freaking out.

"Oh my gosh! Did I say something wrong? Oh, please don't die America!" She started bawling. I chuckled softly, but the dread was still weighing me down.

"May! Oh, dear, I didn't mean to scare you like that!" I scrambled for words, "um, I just got... I just got so excited for tomorrow!" I lied.

"Oh my gosh, me too! But I'm also sad that you are leaving." She frowned.

"Oh don't worry," I comforted her and put a hand on her shoulder, "I'll return home as fast as I can." And I instantly knew that I shouldn't have said that because her face morphed into a disappointed and angry face.

"America, you are going to stay in that competition for as long as you can!" She stated.

Ugh! Not her too! She's like a mini mom! I have to nip that in the bud before it gets too serious.

I got worked up by her words, and I resisted from yelling back at her. I took a couple of deep breaths and nodded.

"I'll do that for you, May."

But that promise was hollow.

**I'm in a book hangover.**

**Cassandra Clare is too good at writing books.**

**And the feels... TOO STRONG.**

**And WessaJessa. Sorry Jessa shippers.**

**My brain is pure mush right now.**

**Meh hehehehheheheh.**

**And the Young Elites by Marie Lu...**

**And Graceling...**

**And Red Queen...**

**Bnjfdakgnfljangjkfdaon- my mental status right now. Enzoooooooooooooooo...**

**And I forgot to answer the guest named Joey's question about how old Aspen and Maxon are, they are 21 and 19, If that's possible. I need to review health class. Heh.**

**HEALTH CLASS FTW.**

**~ThyShippingQueen**


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